


Itch

by Malu_3 (Grainne)



Series: Merlin Summer Pornathon 2014 [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Immortal Merlin, M/M, Reincarnation/Reawakening, Summer Pornathon 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2070255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grainne/pseuds/Malu_3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Something about the kid's eyes, the slightly manic smile, is worrisome. But Arthur's on holiday. He's got top-shelf rum in his veins, fine white sand between his toes, and an itch that desperately wants scratching.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Itch

**Author's Note:**

> Entry for Challenge 1: Sexpistolary, inspired by the following TFLN:
> 
> (708): _He was rambling about life and dignity and happiness. but all i kept thinking was PENIS. YOU HAVE A PENIS. I CAN SHOW YOU WHERE TO PUT THAT PENIS_  
>  (630): _I don't know what kind of drugs you were on last night but you kept trying to highlight my face because you said I was important._

Arthur's uncertain at first. Something about the kid's eyes, the slightly manic smile, is worrisome. But he's on holiday. He's got top-shelf rum in his veins, fine white sand between his toes, and an itch that desperately wants scratching.

He – Merlin – speaks a version of English, handy as Arthur's after something more than a back alley fuck, plus he's pretty. Pretty and tall and staring with the kind of raw hunger most men try to cover up for pride's sake, even at a meat market like this.

Arthur takes him back to the hotel, studies him under the lobby lights and in the glass-walled lift that shoots them up, higher than the foothills and the fort across the bay. He's still pretty, but not as young as Arthur thought. 

There is definitely something queer about his eyes.

They take off their shirts, take a bottle out on the balcony to catch the breeze and watch the last of the day's colours fade and bruise into night. Merlin's got wiry limbs, thick dark hair and the sweetest pink nipples Arthur has ever seen. His fingers are long, his nails tidy, his faded blue shorts like a second skin. 

He's got everything that Arthur needs, so he doesn’t know why he's hesitating, watching Merlin's mouth and listening to his blather instead of stripping off and grabbing the railing, legs spread. 

It's full dark now, a fat copper moon hanging out over the bay. Arthur fancies the idea of the warm breeze on his balls, watching that moon sail up and down as Merlin takes him hard from behind. Normally he'd be blunt about it, have no problem saying, "Shut up, get your kit off and get over here."

Instead, Merlin's sprawled on the lounger, rambling about life and dignity and happiness, looking at Arthur like he's hung that damn moon himself; instead, all Arthur can do is nurse the rum, staring, thinking, _Cock. You have a marvellous cock. Why aren’t I showing you where to put it?_

He wonders if he's made a mistake with this one. He wonders if the lounger would take their combined weight, if Merlin would mind if Arthur just reached over and slid his cock out of his shorts, stiffened it up and spit on it, then climbed aboard. It's almost unbearable to be this close and not be touching. 

He _could_ let his hand linger when passing the bottle, but with Arthur it's all or nothing. He only lets himself have it when it's down to skin on skin, nothing left to hide. He doesn't even like kissing them until he's got a fat cockhead nudging in through that first ring. He likes soothing the burn of it by suckling at their mouths, swallowing down whatever noises they make. 

Merlin's going to swear when he first feels how tight Arthur is, how well he moves, that the muscles aren't just for show. Arthur can tell.

Except… 

_Shit._ Merlin's ranting now, all worked up about time and bloody _destiny_ , gesticulating with the empty bottle. His eyes are wide and bright. It's drugs, has to be, on top of all the booze, and he may be near-perfect but Arthur's not into that kind of hook-up. 

He wants to be seen, remembered.

"Hey," he says roughly, pushing up from his chair, spell broken, need turning sour in his gut. "Come on. That's enough. I think you've had your fun, my friend."

He lets Merlin shout, lets him ugly cry and pound a fist against his chest. Then he pries the bottle from lax fingers, coaxes him back inside. He tells him to stay and sleep it off, cursing himself for a fool.

He means on the sofa, of course, but there's something about the way Merlin clings, whispering, "Arthur, please…" as if there's a whole sentence in there, a whole heartbroken story, and reaches for his face.

"Just…let me hold you."

Arthur blinks. Then he decides to break all his rules and kisses Merlin anyway. 

_He's uncertain at first. Something about the boy's eyes, the slightly manic smile, is worrisome. But Arthur's the prince. He's got royal blood in his veins, a whole glorious life ahead of him, and an itch that desperately wants scratching._

~ * ~

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [While the Moon (the Scratch that Itch remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6528196) by [Emjayelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emjayelle/pseuds/Emjayelle)




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